Wes Mountain/The Conversation
Times of crisis have always changed our slang, with the help of a little black humour. Coronavirus is no exception.
French President Emmanuel Macron scolded a teenager for calling him by his nickname, ‘Manu’.
Could an Aussie high schooler say to our prime minister, "How’s it goin’, Mal?", and get away with it? Probably.
The Warrnambool potato harvest of 1881.
State Library of Victoria
Irish influence on Australian English is much like the influence of the Irish on Australians themselves — less than you’d expect on the surface, but everywhere once you start looking.
Here’s cheers: Australians have developed a lot of slang phases for alcohol and drinking.
Our drinking culture has brought some colourful phrases into the Australian vernacular.
Gogglebox, where you watch people watching TV.
AAP Image/Foxtel, Nick Wilson
Cult TV show Gogglebox is more than light entertainment: it shows the diverse reality of Australian English, going beyond stereotypes about what Australians sound like.
The great potato cake/scallop/fritter divide.
Rosey Billington, Lauren Gawne, Kathleen Jepson, and Jill Vaughan 'Mapping words around Australia' (bit.ly/AusWordsMaps)
Australian's care so much about regional differences in words because it's a reflection on a person's identity.
How much does the way we speak affect the way people perceive us – and should it really matter in contemporary Australia?
Within Australia, there has historically been a clear social distinction between Cultivated (British-oriented) and Broad or General, distinctly Australian ways of speaking.
Why are British bosses so bothered by Australian question intonation?
AAP Image/Dan Himbrechts
We could blame it on The Ashes. Last week, media outlets reported the Brits’ use of the Aussie accent might hurt their chances of promotion. But take a deep breath and two steps back from the 24-hour news…